


you hit me once

by lazybug



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Abuse (mentioned), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 12:56:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10764705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazybug/pseuds/lazybug
Summary: When Eggsy finds out that Michelle has been found by Dean once again, his anger gets the better of him.





	you hit me once

The last thing Eggsy ever wanted to see after becoming a Kingsman was Dean’s face. He didn’t realize the real last thing he ever truly wanted to see was a new bruise marking Michelle’s face. She winced when he saw it at first, like he would take out his anger on her, too. He shuts his eyes, horrified and guilt-ridden.His stomach feels like it’s been twisted into a thousand knots, and his jaw hurts from how hard he’s clenching it. 

When he opens his eyes again, his mother’s expression nearly knocks the wind out of him: all pleading eyes and exhaustion and sadness. “Mum,” he sighs, helpless. Utterly helpless.

Gently, he cups her cheek in his hand, tilting her head to see the bruise better in the light. It started right at the tail end of her eyebrow and purpled all the way down to her cheekbone. Resigned, Eggsy ducks his head, apologizing for not protecting her. And if that deja-vu wasn’t a kick right to the gut, he didn’t know what was. 

“Mum, I’m ‘a fix this, alright?” he starts, his lip worried between his teeth, “He ain’t comin’ back.” Michelle sighed and Eggsy swallowed hard, moving forward to gather her fully into his arms and hug tight. And with a press of his lips to her temple, he turned out of the embrace, reiterating his point, “Promise.”

He doesn’t exactly know what to do with himself, so he paces a few moments before grabbing a jacket and heading out the door after one more glance at her. He blows a kiss before shutting the door completely.

As soon as he steps fully outside, emotions and heat hit him like a ton of bricks. The air around him was too warm, too humid, too suffocating. It was like London somehow changed into a climate of hell. No matter how fast he walked, no breeze would come, no relief of his guilt. He did this, it’s all his fault. He didn’t protect her the way he could’ve, the way he should’ve. 

So he walked and walked and walked, praying that wherever his feet took him, it’d be a good enough place for him to think. Or stop thinking. He wiped absentmindedly at his cheek with a sleeve, relieved that it isn’t wet yet. He still had that sliver of dignity left.

And then, the storefront came into view. Eggsy stopped, his tongue rolling over his teeth in disgust. His eyes prickled with tears unshed and his chin wobbled. Until that particular moment, it felt like the entire thing was his fault: like it all fell on his shoulders and his alone. He promised her he would keep her safe. He promised Dean would never hurt her again. He promised. For fuck’s sake, it’s his job to protect, to save. And he failed.

But oh, oh then, Harry came to mind, and his promise to Eggsy. His promise to his family. His promise. To make sure nothing like that ever happened again. To keep his family safe. To never disclose his location so that Dean couldn’t ever find Michelle again. To protect. And the guilt that churned Eggsy’s stomach turned to rage, charged with hurt and disbelief. He swallowed back his tears and shoved his way through the door.

“Where is he?” Eggsy practically yelled the moment he made eye contact with Roxy. His voice trembled, and at this point he couldn’t tell if he was just that angry or on the verge of tears. She blanched, communicating with her eyes that she was with a customer, a sudden aggressive line to her shoulders. She looked like she kinda wanted to punch him.

Taking in his stance and his ragged breathing, Roxy tilted her head discretely towards the stairs with concerned, questioning eyes. She looked between the customer and Eggsy a total of three times, weighing her options, it seemed. Excusing herself politely from the man picking out ties, she came over to Eggsy, cautiously taking hold of his elbow. “You okay?” she tried, squinting warily at his expression. 

Rather than answering, Eggsy blew out a harsh breath, covering itself as a laugh. “Grand, Rox, just grand,” he faked with a malicious smile. While she continued to stare at him quizzically, he squared his shoulders and stalked across the shop, aim clear and precise. Nothing mattered but finding Harry and telling him the fuck off, maybe squeezing in a roundhouse kick to the fucking face while he’s at it. 

He finds him in a sparring match with some recruit in the gym, after nearly half an hour of avoiding eye contact with everyone he saw and searching every room with a vengeance. Harry’s dressed in a white dress shirt and trousers, the shirt sleeves rolled crisply up to his elbows. He handles himself well, Eggsy notes, favoring his right side. The recruit holds his own, though, blocking enough of Harry’s punches to get by relatively unscathed.

He watches for a few moments, seething quietly, waiting for his chance to catch the two off guard.

“Get out,” he commands at the kid when the moment comes, accent crystal clear and brutal even to his own ears. He can practically hear the gears grind to a halt in Harry’s head as he blinks, and blinks again. He stands up straight, lowering his arms from their blocking position. He looks startled, at least.

“Now, Eggsy,” Harry chides, “Surely that wasn’t necessary.” But he sounds cautious all the same, hands up in surrender like he’s afraid Eggsy going to shoot him or something. He didn’t even have a gun on him. 

The atmosphere in the room heats up, and everything is tense. Eggsy was sure that one wrong move and either he’d be on the ground or Harry would. 

They both flinch when the door slams closed from the recruit rushing out. Eggsy sucked in the deepest breath that he could manage and closed his eyes for a brief second. Squaring his jaw, he throws up his hands before rubbing at his eyes, restless.

“You said this‘d keep ‘er safe,” Eggsy tries, voice trembling. At Harry’s blank stare, he croaks out, “You fucking told me he ain’t finding her!” By the end of his sentence, he’s shouting and it feels like he’s going to throw up. He can feel bile in the back of his throat and tears stinging his eyes again. 

Harry exhales quietly, breaking eye contact with Eggsy in resignment. “Eggsy, come now,” he reiterates, head tilted slightly. He takes slow steps towards Eggsy, eyebrows raised in what looked like concern, and it pissed Eggsy off even more. When he makes it across the room, he settles a hand on his upper arm, gentle, an attempt at a calming reassurance, “What’s happened?”

Eggsy swings first, punch flying through the air to hit right on the edge of Harry’s jaw, but it glances off his forearm instead. “You fucking cocksucker,” he yells, trying again—blocked. He keeps trying with all of his might, even aiming for Harry’s blind spots that he’s picking up on over time, but he’s too out of sorts. “Said you’d keep her safe!”

He can’t seem to focus enough, his arms just swinging wildly without aim. Just one good hit and he’d be golden. But his arms move on their own accord, knees bucking at their own attempt to get a hit in.

And so he tries again, stabs with the brunt of his left elbow in Harry’s ribcage and slugs him with his right hand. He hears the hiss of breath from Harry, finally caught off guard. He hits again. And again. And again. Each one he hears with a satisfying smack or thud or “oof!” His knuckles sort of burn but he pushes through, going until he physically can’t anymore, breath coming out in pants. 

He can hear crying, loud gasping sobs echoing in the room and is surprised to realize they’re coming from himself. Hot tears roll down his face and land somewhere on his arms when they rest, hands grasping Harry’s shirt. He knows he’s still yelling, or talking, or crying at least. But the words he can’t understand and the fight is seeping out of him. At this point, his knees shake and his hands keep knocking against Harry’s chest like he’s still trying to fight through it. 

When he feels arms wrap around him, he sinks to the floor, a tangle of limbs, feeling utterly defeated. If not for Harry’s chest for Eggsy to rest his head, or long legs bracketing him in, Eggsy would’ve been a puddle on the ground. “‘S suppose to be safe,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, but Harry nods, chin resting atop Eggsy’s. 

He expects reassurance in the form of words, the typical fix-it attitude to come out, yet it doesn’t. Harry simply holds him steady, lets him cry into his chest. Eggsy has half a thought of soaking his shirt and feeling awful for it. And then he feels how much snot is running out of his nose and probably onto Harry’s shirt and he laughs, albeit bitterly and sad, but he laughs nonetheless. “‘S not m’ fault if your shirt is ruined,” he claims, and feels Harry’s chest vibrate with a laugh. It’s more of a comfort than he expects, feeling and hearing him laugh.

“Snot,” Harry says. And Eggsy doesn’t know if he’s calling him that or trying to make a pun. He lets it slide, though, too exhausted to care. He shuts his eyes and concentrates on breathing and resolutely not thinking about anything at all. 

Harry dips his chin to let his lips fall into a tangle of Eggsy’s hair, softly stating an apology and a promise to fix it “no matter what it takes.” 

In turn, Eggsy hiccups and nudges his forehead against Harry’s chest. He feels hands rub softly, comforting, up and down his back. And it’s weird and out of the ordinary but in the same sense, it’s right. He likes the touch and leans, slightly, into it. A fleeting moment of embarrassment passes as Harry definitely takes notice, pauses, and then continues again, scratching lightly.

Guilt settles back into his stomach again. He thinks of his mom, and Daisy, and he wants to move all over again. But he knows it’s unrealistic to think they can just up and go to a different house. In all honesty, it’d be better just to kill Dean. He sighs.

The rumble of Harry’s chest returns, softer and quieter this time, but he laughs again. “The same thing came to my mind, my dear boy,” Harry admits, like he read Eggsy’s mind. Or he said it out loud, as Harry gently reminds him after he gives him a look of confusion. “I will take care of it,” he says, and that’s the end of that, if his tone is anything to go by. 

Eggsy’s shoulders slump and his hands fall into his lap as he leans back, sucking his lips between his teeth to keep his chin from wobbling once more. Slowly and completely unsure of himself, he raises his eyes to meet Harry’s. He’s sure he looks like a right mess: hair falling in his eyes, glasses sloped uncomfortably leaning toward the right, snot probably clinging to his nostrils and upper lip. So he reddens, can feel it travelling up from his chest and burn his cheeks. He wants to apologize, to laugh off anything he said or did, but the words get caught in his throat. 

He scoots back on the floor a little, giving Harry the space he most definitely wanted, mumbling to himself about his idiocracy and fucking Dean. Eggsy drops his gaze, not wanting to see pity he knows is there. Instead, he says quietly, “‘S only fair you get one on me, yeah?” He goes to stand, wobbly and unable to find proper footing. He waves his arms at himself when he finally makes it up, looking down at Harry who is still sprawled inelegantly, “Go on, then,” his voice finally coming back to him. 

And Harry just sits there, head cocked to the side and a curious look in his eyes, like he can’t quite figure out what Eggsy is talking about. He goes to lift his arms in question but suddenly understands. Eggsy can see the exact moment Harry get it and winces. His eyes squint, his eyebrows furrowed, almost comically, and his frown could cut Eggsy in two with its severity. So he looks away, shrinks into himself, and takes a few steps back as Harry goes to stand.

It’s easier to be hit than explain himself, is all. He’s fucked up and he deserves it. So he braces himself, eyes squeezed shut, face twisted in a grimace. He even puts his arms up to protect himself from any blows to his chest, unwilling to have a broken rib when he’s set for a mission to Spain in few days time. 

And he waits, waits for the blow to come, as it should. But it doesn’t and he’s confused as all hell. When he opens his eyes, belated and unsure, Harry is still a little ways away, pulling his shirt sleeves down, messing idly with its buttons. 

When Harry finally looks up at him, Eggsy drops his stance, bewildered. He’s still frowning, but it’s more of a disappointed one now, confused and disappointed. 

“I would never intentionally hurt you, Eggsy, “ Harry says, and the aggression in his voice hurts to hear, “That is not the work of a gentleman.” He steps forward, gentle, easy steps, “Alright?”  
And if Eggsy hadn’t already cried himself past the point of dehydration, he might’ve started again. But instead he nods, resolutely looking away, his tongue held firmly between his teeth. He’s disappointed Harry now, too, can feel it in his bones. He ain’t no gentleman, coming in here all teeth bared and fists ready. God, if he ain’t as bad as Dean in that moment. 

Harry sets his hands on both of Eggsy’s arms then, ducking his head slightly to meet his eyes head on. “It’s alright,” he repeats softly, and Eggsy can tell he means it, “Yes?” He sighs briefly, using his sleeve to wipe at Eggsy’s cheek. It’s a tender moment, all soft fabric and whispered comfort—a sharp contrast to his expectations. Harry’s eyes portray a sadness, not for himself, but for Eggsy, and he has to look away.

Finally, Eggsy nods, a short sniffle the only sound in the room. He can’t see any bruises on Harry when he looks for them, and he doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse. So he doesn’t say anything at all, just nods and looks down at his shoes. 

He hears Harry sigh again, and a jingle of metal on metal following suit. Harry grabs one of his hands, dropping a set of keys in it. “For the time being, I want you and your sister and mum to stay with me, then,” he states, no room for argument. His eyes are a solid weight on Eggsy’s face, so he looks up, taken aback by the seriousness of his expression, “You let me handle it. Go ahead, get your things and let yourselves in. I’ll have dinner ready around 7. Maybe take a bath, nap, something.” 

Harry nods to himself, like the plan was set in stone. He settles an arm around Eggsy’s shoulder and steers him in the direction of the door, squeezing reassuringly. 

When Eggsy pushes on the door and looks back, he smiles weakly, “Thanks, Harry,” to which Harry just nods again, a small smile returned.

And he goes home, with a new promise ringing in his ears, one he knows that will be kept this time.

**Author's Note:**

> This happens to be the first time I've written in the Kingsman Universe and the first time I've written an actual fic in a very, very, very long time. As it is, I'm quite rusty but yeah, hopefully, I'll be posting more - most likely Kingsman or Suits, if I get the chance.


End file.
